


Champagne and SportsCenter

by TeaNSympathy



Category: For the People (TV 2018)
Genre: F/M, New Year's Eve, New Year's Fluff, New Year's Kiss, New York City
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-10-01 04:30:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17237471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeaNSympathy/pseuds/TeaNSympathy
Summary: A New Year's Eve confession, heavily inspired by When Harry Met Sally





	1. December 30

**Author's Note:**

> Happy 2019, For the People fans!

The cold wind whips Jill's hair around her face as she makes her way across Foley Square, wishing fruitlessly that she didn't have a meeting with Roger scheduled for this afternoon. Things have been uncomfortable between them of late, and while they both worked hard at keeping their professional relationship separate from the personal, it was impossible not to notice the awkwardness that had recently settled over all of their interactions.  
Up until a few weeks ago, everything had been fine. Friendly. They were people who went to baseball games together, took in the occasional movie or dinner, and every so often – well, more often than not, to be honest – had sex. Consensual, adult, mutually enjoyable, no-strings-attached sex. Always at his place, as he lived much closer to work. She travelled with a toothbrush in her purse and then went home to her little apartment where everything was just as she liked it. She was happy. She'd thought he was happy too. Clearly she'd been wrong.  
Three weeks ago on a Saturday she'd found out just how wrong she'd been. She'd spent the night and they were passing a lazy morning watching SportsCenter on his couch while eating lefotver Chinese from the previous evening when suddenly he'd muted the TV, silencing her protest with a somber “I need to ask you something.”  
“OK...” she'd responded uneasily, putting down the lo mein that had suddenly lost all its savor. That was never a good phrase and her stomach was already knotting in trepidation.  
“Where do you see this going?Us?”  
“You mean...us together?”  
“Yes. Do you see this ever becoming something serious?Or are we just having fun?”  
She'd sighed.  
“You know how I feel. I'm really not looking for a relationship. Now. Or ever. I'm just not. And even if I were, we're just way too different for it to ever work. I'm sorry. I'm having a lot of fun. I thought you were too.”  
Roger had stood, walked over to the window and gazed out for a minute. When he'd turned back  
the sadness in his eyes made Jill's heart sink.  
“I guess I was. For a while. But the thing is... I care for you, Jill. I want more. And I'm not going to stop wanting it. For my own sanity and mental health, I think its a good idea if we stop seeing each other outside of work.”  
“What about the Yankees?” she'd asked, stunned.  
His smile was wry, lacking any genuine humor.  
“We've got a few months. We can reassess later.

Jill shakes her head as she arrives at Roger's office, trying to dislodge the memory. Surprised, she notices through the door that he is not alone. There is a woman leaning against his desk and they appear to be having an intimate conversation. When the woman turns to face the door Jill realizes that 1) she is about Jill's age and strikingly beautiful and 2) she is familiar, with a face that Jill knows she's seen on TV.

“Am I interrupting? We said two' o clock, right?”  
“Yes, come in. Senator Knox is just leaving.”  
Senator Knox. Of course. The U.S. Senator from Texas. Jill had seen her frequently on CNN, but she was much lovelier in person.  
“Oh please – do call me Melora, Roger,” she purrs. Her manicured hand runs caressingly across  
Roger's sleeve.  
Roger stands, indicating Jill.  
“Melora, you'll excuse me but we do have a meeting scheduled. This is my colleague, Jill Carlan, head of the Federal Public Defender's Office.  
“It's a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Carlan.”  
Melora Knox shakes Jill's hand with a cool smile. Her dark eyes sweep over Jill, taking in the suit she'd gotten half-off five years ago. Jill has never paid much attention to fashion, but she is suddenly very aware that the other woman is clad in head-to-toe Armani and that her perfume probably retails for more than six months of Jill's salary.  
“It's an honor, Senator Knox.”  
Senator Knox does not ask Jill to call her “Melora.”  
“Bye, Roger. We'll see you tomorrow night then.”  
“Absolutely,” Roger smiles warmly.  
Senator Knox smiles back and heads down the hallway.  
Jill raises her eyebrows as she slides into the chair across from Roger.  
“I didn't realize you knew the Senator so well.”  
“Her son works for me. Leonard.”  
“Ah.” Jill knows she should probably leave it at that, but her curiosity gets the better of her.  
“So she'll see you tomorrow?”  
“She invited me to her New Year's Eve party.” Roger slides an engraved invitation across the desk. Jill recognizes the name of the swanky downtown club, realizing she'd read a profile of it in last week's Times.  
“Are you going?”  
“Definitely. Should be a good time. You? Hot date?”  
Jill shrugs.  
“I'll probably stay in, watch the ball drop and then go to bed. New Year's is overrated.  
“Well, you enjoy” Roger says disinterestedly. He slides the invitation into his desk and pulls out a folder. “So. What's on the agenda for today?”


	2. December 31

The office closes at five on New Year's Eve and Jill has her errands done and is home by seven. She has been spending New Year's Eves alone since the divorce and she loves it, looks forward to it, has her routine. By eight o' clock she is showered and wearing her favorite threadbare flannel pajamas, the TV is on and she has a chilled bottle of champagne at the ready along with takeout Thai from the place on her block. She has a comfortable couch, a crocheted afghan, and the remote all to herself. Yet something feels wrong. Something feels off. Ryan Seacrest's voice is grating and the jubilant crowds on TV irritate her. She flips channels, trying to find something to watch, lands on ESPN. Sports Center. Sports Center makes her think of Roger. Damn it. Sports Center is not as much fun to watch without his running acerbic commentary. She flips again, finds a rerun of Law and Order. She watches for a few minutes but realizes that the pleasure of ferreting out the inaccuracies in the script is considerably less without being able to share her observations with Roger.  
Flipping back to Seacrest, she pours herself a glass of champagne. As the bubbles pop in her mouth, she is hit with a wave of remembrance of the time she and Roger had shared her long-hoarded bottle in the diner, how much they'd laughed that day. She wonders if he's enjoying himself at the party, rubbing elbows with senators. If it's just elbows. If it's not more. Images flood her mind- the Senator's possessive hand on Roger's sleeve, her flirtatious smile, the warmth in Roger's eyes as he'd bid the Senator goodbye. She wonders if they'll kiss at midnight and the pain that stabs through her at the thought takes her completely by surprise. She turns off the TV and pours herself a second glass of champagne, wrapping the afghan around herself for comfort. She misses him. Misses him horribly. The thought of never again lying next to him in bed and hearing the familiar sound of his breathing is unbearable. Suddenly she realizes what she has to do. Gulping the rest of her champagne, she grabs her coat and heads for the door. 

It is freezing outside, but miraculously she manages to hail a cab before her feet have completely turned to ice. Still more miraculously, she remembers the address to the club and is able to convey it to the cabdriver and in less time than she had imagined he pulls up to the club. Light spills from the building and through the windows she can see people laughing, women in glittery dresses, men in tuxedoes, waiters with trays of champagne and canapes. She strains for a glimpse of Roger but doesn't see him anywhere so she climbs up the stone steps to the door. A uniformed staff member suddenly materializes in front of her.

“Excuse me, miss, but this is a private party. Are you on the list?”  
She can tell from his disapproving gaze that he knows she isn't.  
“I...no. But I need to speak to someone inside. May I go look for him?”  
The staff member sighs.  
“ Wait here, please. I'll see if I can find him. Name?”  
“Roger Gunn. Please hurry; it's kind of important.”  
With a barely disguised eye-roll, the young man disappears into the party. Jill looks at her watch. 11:45. She climbs down the stairs to the sidewalk, stamping her feet and walking back and forth, trying to keep warm. After five minutes that seem to last an eternity, the staff member reappears with a tuxedoed Roger in tow. Roger peers out the door and recognizes her.  
“Jill? What's wrong?Is everything all right?”  
Concerned, he joins her at the bottom of the stairs. Jill swallows hard, her heart thudding in her chest.  
“Everything is fine. But I need to talk to you.”  
He raises an eyebrow, crossing his arms across his chest.  
“OK. Talk. I'm listening.”  
She takes a deep breath.  
“You see, the thing is...I love you. I love that you're a total grouch in the morning before you've had your coffee. I love that everyone who works for you is terrified of making you mad. I love that you're weirdly obsessed with dead mafia dons and I love that for no good reason you insist on sitting on the aisle at the movies when there are plenty of other seats available. I love that you have a Rocky quote for every conceivable occasion. I love that even though everything you work for professionally is wrong you work for it with total conviction. I love you and I'm terrified but I want to be with you and if having a relationship is what it takes I want that too.” She pauses. He is silent, his eyes searching her face. When he speaks, his voice is low and sad.  
“You don't have to say all that, Jill. I know it's New Years and I know you might be lonely, but it doesn't work that way. You can't just say you love me and make everything fine.”  
“It's not that!” she protests. “It's not because it's New Year's Eve and it's not because I'm lonely. It's because I realized tonight that I only want to watch SportsCenter with you and I only want to drink champagne with you. I only want to sleep with you and I only want to wake up with you and I only want to go to Yankees games with you. And when you realize that you only want to do everything worthwhile in life with someone, you want to start doing all those things as soon as possible!”  
She pauses, waiting for him to respond. When he does, it is the last thing she is expecting.  
“Are you wearing pajamas?”  
Jill realizes that this is, in fact, the case and pulls her coat tighter around her striped-flannel-clad self.  
“Maybe.”  
“I like it.”  
Roger's face dissolves into a smile and his eyes warm. Jill is flooded with relief as he pulls her into his arms, holding her close. She hasn't lost him after all. From inside the club she hears excited voices begin the countdown as in Times Square the crystal ball begins its slow descent.  
“Ten!Nine!Eight! Seven!Six!  
“And I love you too,” Roger whispers against Jill's ear.  
“Five!Four!Three!Two!One!  
His warm lips find hers and she loses herself in the kiss. It is minutes after the new year has officially arrived that she pulls back to look up at him. The twinkling lights of the city surround them and their breath turns to puffs of white in the cold. It is a new year and the possibilities fill her with sudden joy.  
“Happy New Year, Roger,” she murmurs, reaching up to caress his dear, familiar cheek with her hand.  
“ Happy New Year, Jill.”


End file.
